


Where Dreams Go to Die

by MorningStorm



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Friendship, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Murder-Suicide, Points of View, Romance, Suicide, Tragedy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningStorm/pseuds/MorningStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bebe's unrequited love for Wendy leads to an unspeakable tragedy, those who cared for her and Stan must pick up the pieces of their broken lives. Warning: Themes of murder, suicide, depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Impossible Love

**Bebe's POV**

I sit in the cafeteria and watch them in annoyance. Wendy and Stan, the childhood sweethearts who have managed to stay together for nearly a decade. I sit and watch them with growing irritation, my cheek resting on my hand. I try not to look too angry and I fight back the tears that nearly well themselves up in my eyes. I resist the urge to hit the table with my fist in frustration. How did my life come to this?

My oblivious boyfriend, Clyde Donovan sits next to me, chatting with his friends. Craig, the asshole, Tweek, the paranoid crack addict, and Token, one of the few relatively normal people at our school. These are Clyde's friends. Do I like Clyde? Yes. Do I love him? No. Does he love me? Yes, and it just breaks my heart more that he does. My situation was already tragic enough.

You see, my heart belongs to Wendy Testaburger. It has since I went through puberty. I must be bisexual. Or pansexual. Or some other odd thing. My sexuality is like a Rubik's Cube and I'm attracted to different shit every day, but it doesn't matter because no matter how many different people, bodies, or faces I _like_ , I will only ever _love_ Wendy Testaburger. But she will only ever love Stan Marsh and worse yet, I fear too much for our friendship to speak of my feelings. The only person I have trusted to hear such musings of mine is Red.

Red is so sweet and kind. She would be my other best friend besides Wendy. I tell her everything that I can't tell Wendy, which would basically be all the feelings I have for Wendy. Red has actually fallen in and out of love with me a few times over the years. And I like her _a lot._ Like, not love. We really connect on a lot of things. Our sexualities also appear to be nearly identical. Fancy that. And Red is very attractive, not just in a sexual way, but I would go as far as to call her beautiful. But she does not have the world-consuming beauty of Wendy. Ultimately, Red is very similar to Clyde in terms of the role she plays in my life. She loves me, I like her, and I love Wendy. None of these relationships can ever be because no one reciprocates the love!

I resist the urge again to bang my fist on the table, to scream, or to cuss. It all hurts so much.

Every day after school, I come to Stark's Pond to watch the winter sunset and see the stars come out. I sit and watch, I gaze towards the heavens and ask God why I can't have Wendy Testaburger. Why can't I kiss her? Why can't I know her body? Why can this love never be reciprocated? Why can this love never be consummated? When the sun goes down and the stars come out, every evening I gaze up again to the heavens and hope to feel my spirit sucked up into them, to transcend the state of being a human. I want to immortally flow through the vacuum of space, taking in its beauty forever, free from my emotional prison, free from sexual desires, free from romantic yearnings. But then the harsh bite of South Park's winter winds rips through my body and brings me back to reality, reminds me who I am. I am Bebe Stevens, and I will _never_ have Wendy Testaburger. So I come to Stark's Pond every evening and I release my dreams. I let them die, hoping that one day I can die with them. It's the only time and the only place where I can ever feel calm within.

Because when I leave Stark's Pond, I remember again the only thing in life that can equal my love for Wendy. My pure _hatred_ for Stan Marsh. I fucking hate him. For stealing Wendy, who is my world. I know my hatred is unjustified and he can't possibly know how I feel, but I still wish him dead. And the only person who knows, as with Wendy, is Red. I spend most of the evenings at her house. Cool, dark evenings with the only person I can trust with everything.

On my ten minute walk to her house, with my hands snugly in the pockets of my red sweater and the wind gently ruffling my blonde hair, I think again of the eventual tragedies of my breaking of Red's and Clyde's hearts. They are both incredibly sensitive people. Hell, Red cries more for me than I cry for myself. When Red falls in love with me again and realizes again that I still don't feel the same, I'll have to deal with the guilt of breaking her heart again. And I still have yet to let Clyde realize that I'm only dating him passively, to get through a phase of my life. He loves me and wants us to marry one day. I care for him, but I do not love him. I dread the day that I have to hurt him so and watch him cry like a baby when he realizes that my heart belongs to another (not that I'll tell him who, lest word gets out and Wendy finds out).

With the thoughts still swirling in my head, I knock on Red's door. It's answered by her mother as usual and she tells me Red is waiting for me in her room as usual. I walk into Red's room and greet her with a hug.

"So, what's up?" Red asks me brightly and intently. She always tries to be cheery at first even though she knows I'll eventually bring the mood down.

"Just business as usual," I say with a sigh.

"Oh," Red says with her usual disappointment in my tone, "Well, what have you been thinking about."

"Killing myself," I reply nonchalantly, immediately regretting it.

"Bebe!" Red exclaims angrily, an emotion that she rarely shows, "How can you say that? People _love_ you."

"Wendy doesn't," I reply.

"She loves you as a friend," Red retorts, "Your death would devastate her."

"Not if I do it the way I plan to leave this world," I tell her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Red asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing, look I'm sorry," I tell her, "I won't kill myself, I just… I'm giving up on ever being happy."

Red grabs me by the collar of my sweater, she's slightly shorter than me, leaving me to look down into the tears welling in her eyes. I start to feel the guilt of upsetting her again as I have so many times in the past.

"You scare the hell out of me when you talk like that," she sobs in frustration, "Please don't give up. Be with me, we can be happy together. You know I love you, right?"

I feel dread again. Here I am, hurting someone again with my misery. I'm lucky if that only happens once in a day.

"Red, Wendy is everything to me."

"You're so selfish!" She cries more and hugs me tight. I run my fingers through her majestic, thick burgundy hair. I wish one of us could be happy, I think to myself. I wish she didn't need me.

And that is the oddly morbid moment at which I had my inspiration.

"Red," I tell her soothingly, "I'm going to set everything straight. Then you won't have to be hurt by me anymore."

"I want you in my life, Bebe," she begs and it stings my heart to see someone I care for in this kind of pain.

"I know you do," I tell her, "Let me do a few things over the next few days and everything will become clear."

That night, in my room, I feel the weight of my father's gun in my hands. I don't know guns, so I can't say exactly what kind it is. Some sort of pistol. But it will get the job done, there's no doubt about that. The only way to consummate the love I have for Wendy is with a bullet through the skull of Stan Marsh.


	2. Consummated With a Bullet

**Bebe's POV**

It's a cool, dark evening, much like it was yesterday, only a light snow is falling.

I call Stan from my cell phone. He's my best friend's boyfriend, so of course I have his number. He has no idea that I hate him. He has no idea that he's about to die.

"Hello?" he answers my call.

"Hey Stan, listen can I meet you in your front yard in a few minutes?" I ask.

"Why?" he asks back.

"Because I have the perfect Valentine's Day gift you can give to Wendy," I tell him the lie that will lure him out, "Just meet me and you'll see."

"Can it wait, Bebe? Valentine's Day is still several weeks from now," He tells me and I resist the anger as usual. The anger, I'm always bottling it up, but not for long.

"No, it's really exciting, I want you to see now," I tell him persistently, "If you _really_ love Wendy, you'll find it to be exciting as well."

"Alright, alright," he concedes, "I'll be waiting outside on my steps, this better be good."

"It will," I tell him and hang up. Yes, it will feel really good for me, I think to myself.

The gun is safely concealed under my sweater, tucked into my pants when I arrive at his doorstep. He is there waiting for me, just as he said he would be.

"Well, where's this amazing gift?" He asks a bit annoyed. I feel anger inside, but I want to savor this moment a bit. I want to see his shock.

"There is no gift, that was a lie," I say, dropping the charade. I don't remove my gun yet, however.

"Well then, why _are_ you wasting my fucking time?" he asks me, completely angry now.

"Because, you're with Wendy. _You_ shouldn't be with her!" I exclaim, finally letting out a bit of anger.

"You think I should be with you? Even if I wasn't with Wendy, I wouldn't like a girl who makes me wait on the freezing doorstep under false pretenses," he says in irritation.

"No, I think _Wendy_ should be with me," I say, pulling the gun on him, "I love Wendy more than _anyone_ else in the entire universe. And you don't deserve her!"

"What? So you're gonna _kill_ me?" he asks, shocked and terrified.

"Bingo," I say, aiming down the sights and planting a bullet in his head.

Stan's body drops dead. It falls to the ground and I stand over it, satisfied with my work. I fire rounds into his body until I have just one bullet left. I hear the screams coming from inside his house, I need to get away. I run down the block as fast as I've ever ran. The Marshes are too busy screaming over their son's murdered body to see the murderer making her way away down the street. I head to Stark's Pond and sit down to make a few calls before I execute the final part of my plan.

First, I call Clyde.

"Hello?" he answers, "Bebe?"

"Hello, Clyde," I say simply, "I am a murderer." I say this solemnly.

"What are you talking about?" he laughs, not believing I seriously mean it.

"I just killed someone," I tell him. Silence.

"I'm sorry, but you'll never see me again," I say and then I hang up. I block his number, he won't be calling me back. Next I call Red.

"Hey Bebe," she asks, "How are you?"

"Red, I care for you," I tell her, "Please live a long fulfilling life."

I hang up before she responds and I block her number. I really do hope she finds the strength to make her life better. I would only drag her down.

And now I wait a few minutes, and just as I suspect, Wendy calls me.

"Hello?" I answer the call.

"Bebe, Stan's been shot!" she exclaims, sobbing hysterically. "He's dead." It hurts me, knowing I've hurt Wendy so much, but I won't be dealing with my guilt for long.

"I know, I shot him," I tell her. Silence for a moment besides a gasp and more sobs from Wendy until she speaks, slowly and quietly.

"Bebe… why?" she sobs, "Why would you do something like that!" She screams at me and then screams some more. Her best friend just murdered her boyfriend.

"Because I love you," I tell her angrily, "It was killing me from the inside out! And I _hated_ him for taking you from me!"

"I was never yours and never would be!" Wendy exclaims with anger.

"I know that," I tell her calmly, "It's the thing that hurts worst of all."

"Where are you?" She asks, "I'm sending the police."

"I'm at Stark's Pond, where dreams go to die," I tell her.

I don't hang up, but I drop my phone on the ground with Wendy still sobbing and screaming about something on the other end. Soon she's calling out my name, waiting for a response.

Tonight, it's not just my dreams though, I think as I press the gun to my temple. Tonight, my dreams for this life die, this worthless body dies, and my soul is released into the night sky. Without a second thought, I pull the trigger.


	3. Since the Tragedy

**Red's POV**

She's gone. One of my best friends is gone. I throw myself onto my bed and sob in hysterics. Why did Bebe have to take herself out of my life? Why did she say she was going to make everything right when what she really did was make everything wrong? Why did she make herself into a bad person before she died by taking an innocent life? Even if she hated Stan, how could she hurt Wendy in such a way? So many questions, but it does it matter if they get answered? Nothing is going to bring back Stan or Bebe. It's too late to fix Bebe and now I have to deal with the guilt, I have to deal with the worst question of all. Could I have done anything to stop this? Only I knew of Bebe's true feelings for Wendy and of her true hatred of Stan before all this ugliness happened. What if I had told someone? If enough people knew about it, could we have snapped Bebe out of her seemingly perpetual bleak trance? Questions cycle through my head relentlessly and all I can do is muffle my screams of despair into a pillow.

A week passes by and I hear little from Wendy or Clyde on how either of them is adjusting to the loss of the person they loved most. Clyde can't attend school for the week. I hear from his friends that he is traumatized, crying all the time. I myself missed two days of school dealing with the harshest part of the grieving process. I'm told Wendy hasn't missed a beat in her academic career. She puts on an incredibly strong face every day to make it through the school day without breaking down over the loss of Stan. But her personality comes through much less brightly than it ever has before and anyone who knows her knows that she must be crying behind closed doors, missing Stan every day and night.

Finally, I catch word that Wendy goes to Stark's Pond every day after school and just sits there for about an hour. She's done it every day since the night of the tragedy. I'm eager to find out why Wendy wants to spend so much time at the spot where Bebe ended her own life, so on the next school day I do just that. I finally have a question that might be able to be answered.

"Wendy?" I approach and speak to her softly.

"Oh, hey Red," she greets me with a tone that is melancholy but polite, "How are you?"

"I'm… Okay," I tell her, "Can I sit down and have a chat?"

"Yeah…" Wendy replies.

"Wendy," I pause before asking the important question, "Why do you come here every day?"

"Because…" Wendy begins, "Bebe told me this is where dreams go to die. I wanted to experience that for myself. To see what she means."

"But… Isn't it bad for you to be visiting the spot where Bebe killed herself?" I ask, still a bit confused.

"I guess I'm just coming here to let it go," Wendy tells me.

"To let what go?" I continue to ask her questions.

"To let Stan go, to let the pain go," Wendy manages, sounding a bit upset, "To try and forgive Bebe, even though she took my everything from me." Tears well up in Wendy's eyes and she grits her teeth. I fight back the tears in my eyes, trying to stay strong and supportive.

"I'm sorry," I manage to tell her, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay, Red," Wendy calms a bit, wiping her face with her sleeve, "You're my best friend. We need to be able to talk about these things."

It's true, by virtue of Bebe's death and the horrific crime that preceded it, Wendy and I are now best friends, without a doubt.

"No Wendy, I really am sorry, because…" I sigh and explain, "I always knew about Bebe's love for you. And her hatred for Stan. It tore me apart, watching her go through the pain. And now I feel guilt because I never told anyone. I wanted to keep Bebe's secrets confidential. I didn't know it would cost lives." I bury my face in my hands and begin to cry. I don't know what to expect from Wendy.

I feel a bit better when Wendy puts her arm around me in a comforting hug.

"Red, it's okay, I'm still here for you," she tells me.

"But I can't make things right," I tell her, "It's tormenting me."

"If you want to make things right," Wendy looks me in the eye, "Help me heal. Help _us_ heal."

Wendy hugs me again and buries her face into my shoulder. My best friend and I cry on each other's shoulders. It's all we've got for the moment, but we are going to make it work. After we calm down and release some of our negative emotions together, I tell Wendy it's getting dark and I've got to go home. She agrees and we get up from the bench at Stark's Pond to go our separate ways for the night.

"Red, before you go, just remember," she tells me just as I start to walk away and I turn around to listen, "Don't let your guilt and the things that you can't change define your life. That's what Bebe did and neither of us is going to end up like her."

"For sure," I tell Wendy, for the first time since the tragedy there is a sense of strength and purpose in my voice, "I feel so much better now that we had this talk, Wendy. We can get through this, together!" These things are somewhat cliché to say, but now is not the moment to be nitpicking for originality, now is a time for finding the strength to move forward.

"That's right, I'll see you tomorrow," Wendy gives me a smile and we head our separate ways.

I feel good, but the evenings are still pretty lonely now that I can't hang out with Bebe anymore.


	4. It Hurts at Night

**Wendy's POV**

It's been two weeks since the tragedy. Clyde has finally returned to school and some sense of normalcy is just barely starting to set in for Red and me. A few days ago, the two of us decided we would hang out every evening, just like she used to do with Bebe.

I want to believe that things are getting better. I want to believe I can heal these wounds completely. But every night I still feel cold, misery, and anger inside. Cold because I'm alone. Misery because I will never see Stan again. Anger at Bebe for taking so much from me and those around her. I don't know what to do with myself. All the causes that I used to fight for seem so unimportant now that I and everyone around me have to deal with this each day of our lives. Every day at school, there are moments where the world just seems to stop and I have to realize that two of the most important people in my life are dead and I'll never see them again. The tears come at night when there is no one there to comfort me. During the day, there are distractions, people to talk to and things to be done. During the night, there is only the moonlight through the single window in my room that forces me to reflect on the pain and loneliness life has forced upon me.

One night while I lay in bed, I decide to do something about the pain I feel that always seems to plague me after bedtime. I give up trying to fall asleep for a few moments, turn on my phone and call Red.

"Hello?" She answers somewhat sleepily but it's clear that she hasn't managed to fall asleep yet.

"Hey Red, it's Wendy," I tell her.

"Did you need to talk?" She asks.

"Are you having trouble sleeping too?" I ask her.

"Yeah," She confirms my suspicions. I figured I wasn't the only one of Bebe's former friends who was having trouble falling asleep.

"Maybe I could stay over at your house tomorrow night?" I ask her.

"I would really like that," she tells me, "Just as long as my parents are fine with it. They probably will be, I'll tell you tomorrow at school."

The following day at school, Red tells me that we have the okay for me to stay over at her house that night. Feeling relatively good that day, I decide that it's time for me to start reaching out to others. I've never talked to Clyde much, but I figured since the two of us were both affected by Bebe's murder-suicide tragedy, it might be appropriate for me to try and give him some comfort. Besides, even from a distance I can tell he's still very distraught. He hasn't talked to anyone much since it all happened, not even his closest friends.

The opportunity presents itself when I catch him walking home alone after school rather slowly, looking almost dejectedly at the ground as he goes. I walk quickly until I catch up to him, standing to the side of him.

"Hey Clyde," I greet him with a neutral tone. He stops working and turns his attention to me.

"Yeah, Wendy?" He seems just slightly surprised that I'm talking to him.

"Um, listen," I start, a bit nervous to be talking to a new person, "After what happened a few weeks ago, if you need anyone… Just… Let me know, okay?"

"Yeah thanks," He says, meeting my eyes for a brief moment and then turning away. Clyde has a handsome face. Could that be making me nervous? His eyes are positively beautiful, there is sadness in them but I could sense a bit of hope when he looked at me. His beautiful eyes are accented by his adorable, slightly messy chocolate-brown hair. It makes me want to hug him, but I don't want to make things more awkward than they already are.

"I, um, know how you must feel. And I want you to know I'm here for you as a friend," Such a cheesy thing to say.

"Thanks," He says again, "I'll talk to you later." After that he quickens up his pace immensely and walks away from me. I feel a sinking disappointment in my stomach. It was such a short awkward interaction, I must have scared him off. Yet this was the first time since the tragedy that I had forgotten about Stan, even if it was just for a moment. But Clyde doesn't like me back, so I'll just have to suck it up and forget about it. He probably doesn't want my help.

I walk home and prepare my things for the sleepover I'm having with Red. After a few hours at home, doing my homework and eating dinner I head over to her house where her mother lets me in and I meet her in her room as usual. I greet Red happily and plunk my sleeping bag on the floor. We only hang out and talk for about twenty minutes before Red's cell phone rings.

"Yeah?" She answers it, I hear someone speaking on the other end but I can't make out what they're saying, "Okay, well actually she's right here, do you wanna talk to her?" A short pause, "Okay I'll tell her then. Bye."

"Clyde says he wants you to meet him at Stark's Pond," Red tells me.

"What? When?" I'm confused.

"Right now," She replies.

"Okay… But why are you one of his contacts?" I ask.

"We used to date, plus I used to have a good deal of interaction with him through Bebe," she explains.

"Uh, can I leave my stuff here?" I ask getting up. I still have my shoes on, so I don't really have to do much to get ready to go out into the cool evening air.

"Sure," Red tells me cheerfully, "I'll be waiting for you to get back." She gets up and gives me a friendly hug.

I head downstairs and put my jacket on. It's dark outside, but the moon is out, the streetlights are on and there's plenty of light reflecting off of the snow on the ground. As I make my way towards Stark's Pond, I wonder what Clyde could possibly want with me at this hour.


	5. Where Dreams Are Born

**Clyde's POV**

I nervously play with my hands as I sit at the bench of Stark's Pond. _This is crazy,_ I tell myself, _there's no way she's going to like you back_. Then I remind myself that there are more important matters to attend to. Why did Bebe kill herself? Why did she kill Stan? Why did she do this to us? Wendy probably isn't interested in being my new girlfriend, but hopefully I can take her up on the offer of friendship and get some closure over the horrible thing that occurred those few weeks ago. I just hope my crush on her doesn't get in the way.

I anxiously wait for her to arrive. I wonder if she will arrive. Red said she would tell her, but what if she said no? What if she said no and I'm just waiting our here in the cold all night? Just as I'm about to call Red back I hear someone coming close to me and I see Wendy sit down beside me, a look of anxiety on her face.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," She says back. Things are already feeling tense.

"So, um, hey I'm sorry about earlier, it was just unexpected and I needed time to think," I explain to her.

"Not that much time," she says nervously, "And I'm sorry, it's my fault I made things awkward."

"No, no, it's my fault," I correct her, "But it doesn't matter, you're right. I really need a friend right now."

"Yeah, we're in this together, both of us lost the person we loved most," she tells me.

"I still just don't understand why," I say, refocusing on the subject of her suicide. I start to feel like crying again.

Wendy sighs dejectedly and begins to explain, "This is hard for me to say, Clyde… She didn't love you."

"Why?" I ask, my voice quivering, the tears starting to stream.

"She loved me," Wendy said and paused, "And knowing she could never have me," Her voice hardens with anger as she says the next phrase, "She _took_ the person who could away from me. She played with your heart because hers was already broken. In her mind, she had nothing to lose, so she took from those who did."

Wendy starts to cry and I put my arm around her, attempting to comfort her, although I am crying as well. She sobs into my shoulder.

"I need someone to love," Wendy cries.

"Me too," I say softly.

"Clyde," Wendy looks into my eyes. I have never seen her like this before, so vulnerable. I embrace her in a light hug, feeling her long, straight black hair in my hand. Her eyes look to me in need of, I assume, a friend.

"I think we should be together," Wendy tells me. This is so unexpected. I feel my heart race and try to give a calm reply.

"I think so too," My voice comes out quivering and dry, but Wendy kisses me as soon as I say this.

"I promise to love you for real," Wendy tells me, "Not destroy your world like Bebe did."

"I love you Wendy," I bury my head in her shoulder, sobbing in this bittersweet moment.

We both look into each other's tear-filled eyes and Wendy explains something to me.

"Bebe killed herself here, she told me it's where dreams go to die," Wendy begins, speaking with great emotion, great inspiration, "But I say we change that. Because now this is the place where you and I can start anew. This is the place where we were brought together, where we gave birth to our love instead of killing it. Let's make this the place where dreams are born."

Had anyone else confessed their love for me, I would have rejected it in fear of being hurt again, but as I sit holding Wendy in my arm in beautiful silence here at Stark's Pond, I begin to finally feel some semblance of peace.


End file.
